Life Inside a Music Box
by CANDYisEpic
Summary: A brief look at life inside the Music Box that is Wammy's House. Roger goes on holiday, so L and Near explore and exploit democracy, Matt choses between loyalty and self-preservation, and Mello has a moment of inspired retardedness.


Authors notes: I don't own Death Note. Wish I did. I don't own the song "Music Box" by Regina Spektor either which inspired this and I also wish I did own. This is a little one shot which was buzzing around in my head for quite a while, and it was a LOT of fun to write, so I hope you have fun reading it as well.

Here we have L being L, Watari being helpful, Roger being flustered, Near being sneaky, Matt exhibiting a sense of self preservation and Mello, of course, in a rare and spectacular streak of adorable and pretty retarded inspiration.

Do review, please, and tell me what you think ^^

**________________________**

**~ Life Inside a Music Box ~**

"_Life inside the music box 'aint easy,"_

Dinner time at Wammy's.

L mentally sighed as he gazed around at the tables of children, all bellowing at the top of their lungs to be heard above the accumulated roar of small voices that filled the communal dining room. Over in the corner a pair of boys were flinging spoons of salt at each other, missing their targets but hitting the children who sat around them, all of whom protested loudly. By the window a little girl was dancing on her chair, singing at the top of her lungs as another girl tried to climb her shoulders.

L watched from the relative safety behind the window into the kitchen as Roger rushed around to each disturbance, another one always springing up before he'd finished settling the last.

"_The mallets hit; the gears are always turning,"_

"L? Your cake."

"Thank you, Watari." the young detective replied, taking the strawberry and cream confection without his eyes once leaving the scene before him.

"They're remarkably well behaved today." the old man observed as the pair watched Roger try to settle a brawl in which a boy who had pulled a girl's pigtails had been rewarded with a mouthful of floor, "It is most likely because you're here."

L chuckled a little in response. "Ah, Louis you knew better than that," L directed towards the bruised boy being taken to the sick bay, under his breath. "Ciara has been bragging about her karate lessons for the past three weeks..."

"_And everyone inside the mechanism is yearning to get out."_

L's eyes were then drawn to the tiny white-haired boy who was building a tower out of empty glasses. A tower that rose above the heads of the other children at his table, who all stared at the creation, open mouthed in awe. Those children that weren't employed running around to other tables, collecting more glasses for the structure, anyway. It was getting so tall now that the boy had to stand on the table, on his tip toes, to reach the top.

A red haired boy sitting a few tables away had also noticed the tower, and grinned to his blond friend beside him. He then pulled something out of his pocket. L frowned, trying to see what it was.

A slingshot.

L's reaction was instantaneous. Watari barely saw him move, it was so fast.

"**Matt." **

All of the children stopped what they were doing when they heard the distorted voice on the P.A. System, the voice all recognised as the voice of L. L, who was God in this orphanage. L, whose periodic visits were waited for by all with baited breath. L, whose actions were legend, whose word was law. One by one all then turned their heads towards the rather sheepish looking boy who wore the tinted goggles.

"Yeah?" he asked quietly, smiling a nervous smile. His blonde friend snickered.

"**Come to the kitchen."**

The boy hung his head and made his way to the kitchen, followed by the eyes of every child in the room, as his friend in black laughed hysterically under his breath.

"This is what happens." L said to his guardian enigmatically, as they waited for the boy to reach the kitchens. Watari, however understood his meaning.

"But how does one keep an entire orphanage of genius-level-intelligence children entertained and out of trouble?" the old man replied, and the tone of the question was rhetorical,"How do you stop them from getting bored?"

"_And sing another melody completely._  
_So different from the one they're always singing."_

L responded anyway, as the door handle turned.

"You don't."

The red head poked around the door, worried expression on his face. "Hi, L." he said in quiet and sheepish voice, and was struck, as always, by his idol's striking and curious appearance. The way he slouched so that he was even hunched over, the way his inky hair fell into his inky eyes, the way the power belied by his appearance still seemed to emanate from every movement he made, every look he gave. He was looking at Matt with a disapproving glint in his eye, which made the redhead boy feel very small.

"Come here, Matt, let me see that sling shot." Matt shuffled forwards nervously and held out his sling shot. L took it, and experimented with the elasticity of the rubber band that was slung between two forks of the thick wood, dragging out the silence, making the boy more and more nervous. "This isn't a bad sling shot." L murmured, almost to himself.

Matt took that as a cue. "Mello gave it to me for a Christmas present a couple years ago." his words were hurried and he stumbled over them.

L nodded in acknowledgement. "The angle of the two forks is slightly off, however. This would mean it would shoot a little to the right of the intended target, and you would have to compensate for that, by moving it... like so." L demonstrated what he was talking about, moving the slingshot slightly to the left. Matt was confused, not really sure where the detective was going with this. "So were you to go ahead with your plan to shoot Near's glass tower you would have actually missed, and instead hit Near himself in the face." L levelled Matt a look, which made Matt look at his shoes.

"_I close my eyes and think that I have found me,_  
_but then I feel mortality surround me."_

"You don't really want Near to hold a grudge against you for the rest of your life do you, Matt." L said.

"No." replied Matt honestly, thinking of the Epic War that raged between his blond partner in crime, Mello, and the little ghostly boy who built towers. And how often Mello was injured, humiliated and infuriated. Then again, at least Mello was rarely bored... The white-clad boy's face popped into Matt's mind, eyes dark, cold and calculating. Expressionless. A little shiver ran up his spine. The kid was uncanny. "Definitely not." he added, vehemently.

L smiled a little at the redhead. He didn't feel he needed to mention that if Matt _had _managed to hit the glass tower, he would have been the one cleaning up the subsequent mess as well. He assumed the boy had gotten the point. "Now get back to your seat so we can start serving up dinner." L said, ruffling the boy's hair.

"Yessir." said boy grumbled to his shoes.

The boy was at the door when L called out to him, a smile still on his lips.

"And nice goggles." The red head's questioning look gave way to a grin of pride.

"_I want to sing another melody,  
so different from the one I always sing."_

Those three children...L mused to himself silently, watching the resulting chaos that met the food being brought out. "Roger looks exhausted." he observed observed out loud, watching the aging man try in vain to keep order.

"I'm sure we all do, L." Watari sighed sagely, taking the empty plate from L's hands and replacing it with a new one, a fresh piece of cake sitting upon it. L didn't fail to notice the jab at his chronic insomnia, but he decided not to comment, instead taking a bite of cake.

"_But"_

"I would like to assist him in some way." L began slowly, chewing the silver spoon he held in thought.

"Altruism?" inquired Watari, "How unlike you, L."

L did not look at him but he could hear the amusement in the old man's voice. "Not altruism, Watari." L said, expression its customary blank. "Impartial fairness, as ever."

"And we all know how profound your sense of justice is." Watari remarked, eyes twinkling with amusement. L was aware he was being teased, and he smiled a little in response. They both knew he was not a detective out of any 'profound sense of justice', but more so because it was one of the few things that kept him entertained. "Well," Watari began uncertainly, "Next on the agenda is the cleaning up after dinner..."

"_When"_

"Then you may inform Roger that he may have the rest of the evening off to do as he wishes. And ensure he is well supplied with cake."

"Dishes, L?" Watari asked, genuinely surprised. L turned around to Watari with a smirk on the corners of his lips.

"I have no intention of doing _any_ dishes." L replied innocently. Watari knew better than to ask.

"_I"_

The room fell into a hush when the young, dark haired detective crossed the threshold, and all curious pairs of young eyes turned in his direction. They all watched as a curious, half-smile crossed the detective's face. He then turned and exited, to the confusion of every child in the room. Voices started up again, the mood now one of perplexity.

Then he entered the room a second time, and the noise immediately died down once again. The greatest detective in the word bit his thumb and let out a small giggle of mischievous glee at the phenomenon, before becoming serious once again. He put his hands in his pockets and strolled amongst the cluster of small wooden tables, followed by many avid eyes.

"Can anyone give me a concise answer as to what 'democracy' is?" L asked the room at large. There was no raising of hands in this place. The child who got there first, got to answer.

"A form of government, where a constitution guarantees basic personal and political rights, fair and free elections, and independent courts of law. The basic requirements of a modern democracy are the guarantee of basic human rights, the separation of the executive, legislative and judicative powers, freedom of opinion and the media, religious liberty and the general and equal right to vote." she said in one breath.

"Thank you, Millie, you may sit down now." The girl who had been standing on her chair then sat, with a smug expression on her face. "Tonight you will all be able to participate in a small, very basic form of democracy. The outcome of this vote we shall hold tonight, is the answer to the question, 'Who is going to be washing up the dishes tonight while Roger is on holiday?'"

"_Do"_

There was a collective moan and L noted with an almost evil satisfaction the levels of the heads in the room all dropped as each and every child slumped in their seat.

"But Roger doesn't go on holiday!" piped up a small voice from the back.

"Incorrect." L replied, smiling in amusement.

"Why don't _you_ do it?" chimed in one of the more brave ones.

"Because, Mello," began L, directing his attention towards the black-clad blond, "I am a corrupt government official, and I make the rules." He took a lollipop out of his pocket and popped it into his mouth to reinforce the point. "You may begin the vote." he declared, leaning against the door frame.

There was a small commotion near the back of the room. L looked up to see that Near was standing on the table in front of his tower of glasses, hand raised. Quite an dramatic sight, the detective noted.

"_The"_

"All those in favour of Mello doing the dishes please raise your hand." he dead-panned.

There was no hesitation. Every child save the bold blond lifted their hand in synchronisation, even his red headed friend after a _very_ brief moment of thought. L was impressed.

The white haired boy smirked a little from his commanding position above the heads of his fellows. L couldn't help but feel a tiny little bit of pride as he looked upon the most likely to succeed him. He didn't know how Near had managed to foresee this possibility, let alone reason, bribe and blackmail every child in the orphanage into going along with his plan, but he had pulled it off and L didn't really want to rob him of this victory.

"Looks like the masses have spoken, Mello." L observed amiably to the boy who was busy attempting to punch his "TRAITOR!!" of a best friend.

"Can't I lodge some sort of appeal?" he desperately asked as L, ghost of a smile still on his lips, dragged him over to the door. "I WILL GET YOU BACK FOR THIS!" he managed to cry before the door swung shut.

"_Dishes..."_

Mello muttered furious nothings to himself as he donned an apron and began to fill the sink. Of all the boring, tedious things he could be doing right now... And how the hell had Near orchestrated that scheme right under his nose?? And Matt too?? Grumble grumble... L had left him in the kitchen. Locked in, so he couldn't escape. He wouldn't have done anything, except that he knew he would not be getting out until he had finished.

"_I run the water **VERY VERY VERY** hot."_

The water scalded him, turning his hands red, but he was in a bad mood so he relished the burning and poured the detergent into the cast-iron sink.

"_and... then... **I FILL THE SINK TO THE TOP WITH BUBBLES OF SOAP**."_

He watched as the foamy bubbles quickly rose into a mountain that reached his eye level. Tall, yes, but not as tall as the stacks of dishes he had to clean up. Mello let out a long sigh of despair as he looked at them. L had given him a few brief tips before he had abandoned him. _'Wash the least-dirty dishes first. That means that the water will grow filthy more slowly, and you will not have to refill the sink so many times.'_

"Okay then." Mello muttered to himself, grimacing in resignation. "Least-dirty first." He picked up all the empty juice bottles, which only really needed rinsing out, and undid the caps, throwing all of them into the soapy water.

"_and...then...**I SET ALL THE BOTTLE CAPS I OWN AFLOAT**,  
and it's the **greatest voyage** in the **history of plastic.**"_

He didn't fail to notice how each one made a little splash as they landed, and an idea struck him. Perhaps if he made a horrible mess now...if he completely botched the job... he would never again be made to do the dishes, for fear there would be a repetition. He grinned.

"_and...then...I...**SLIP MY HANDS IN AND START TO MAKE WAVES."**_

Whistling happily to himself he began to wash the caps, taking great care to slosh a lot of soapy water over the sides of the sink. He stopped however, when a wave fell on his feet, soaking through his black-zipper socks. He wiggled his toes around inside the hot, wetness, a little bit of a pout on his lips.

"Maybe not such a good idea after all..." he mused to himself.

Then he supposed he should just get on with washing the stupid dishes, so he did that for a while. Eventually he became content in the steady rhythm of scrubbing and wiping. He began to notice how pretty the bubbles were, catching the light and splitting it into the whole spectrum. He took a few in his hand and blew at them, watching them float around the kitchen. How they glistened in the light like little crystals of sugar, or white cotton candy. Mello found himself wondering what bubbles taste like.

"_and...then...I... dip my tongue in and take a TASTE!"_

"Curious..." he mused after licking one of the white, foamy towers. The bubbles popped and tickled his tongue, which he thought was kind of cool, but he hadn't eaten enough to taste it properly.

"_It tastes like soap, but it doesn't really taste like soap..."_

He decided there was only one thing left for it, if he was going to go about this properly and empirically.

"_and...then...I... **lower in my whole mouth and take a GULP!!**"_

"**Oh God**." Mello choked out. He coughed and spluttered, his eyes starting to water. It was absolutely foul. He took a few drunken steps away from the sink, but slipped in the puddle of water he had split earlier, and fell. His head smashed against the corner of the bench behind it, along with a couple spoons, which fell with him to the tiled floor.

"_And... start... to... feel mortality surround me."_

"Oh...God...o_ww." _He managed to retch-moan. His head was spinning from the pain, but he was still conscious as the door to the kitchen banged open, and in hurried a few people. Mello noticed Matt and Roger among them, and L too, calmly shuffling in from behind.

"What the hell Mells? What was that crashing noise?"

"What have you _done_ here, Mello?"

"I believe Mello-chan has accidentally ingested some detergent."

"_Ingested?? _Matt, go get some vinegar from the cupboard, quickly now."

"Can you sit up?"

"_I close my eyes and think that I have found me,"_

Mello managed an unintelligible groan but allowed L to pull him up into a sitting position. A wave of hiccups assaulted him and L couldn't help but smile a little in amusement at the hiccuping blond.

Matt was soon back with the vinegar which Roger managed to force down Mello's throat. Mello retched again and then vomited up the contents of his dinner along with some soap bubbles onto the white tiles beside him.

"_But life inside the music box 'aint easy,"_

"I think Mello-chan will be alright now the poisons are no longer in his system." L stated cheerfully, cocking his head to the side like a bird. Mello's head still reeled in pain and now the taste in his mouth was even worse.

"_The mallets hit; the gears are always turning,  
and everyone inside the mechanism is yearning to yet out."_

"I...hate you...all." he mumbled weakly, but allowed L to pick him up and take him to his and Matt's shared dorm, where he was lain on his bed with an ice pack for the back of his head.

Roger and Matt had gone but L still stood over him, examining the boy with a thumb between his teeth, a mildly annoyed look on his face. Like he was a puzzle. After a moment the detective spoke. "It worked. I hope you're happy." he drawled, eyes narrowing.

"What?"

"Roger has vehemently refused to go on holiday ever, ever again. There will be no more hazardous-material-taste-testing."

"It tastes like complete shit." The blond complained to the detective, who looked at him blankly for a moment from behind his raven fringe. He then sighed and reached into his back pocket, taking out what looked like a bar of something, then giving it to the young blond.

"Try this. It should get the taste out of your mouth." Mello looked at the unfamiliar packaging curiously and opened the plastic, only to find there was tin foil underneath it. He ripped that open in turn and took a bite of the brown confection it covered. Its creamy richness coated his tongue, eradicating all memory of the soap-vomit, replacing it with a sweet, cocoa flavoured bliss.

Mello closed his eyes for a moment. When he opened them and looked at the detective, they were wide and had a glassy sparkle to them. Mello was in love...

_"I close my eyes, and think that I have found me..."_

"Do you have any more of these?" he asked, tentatively. L smirked, and turned to go from the room, but stopped as he reached the door.

"Perhaps you should put it on your wish list for Christmas," he suggested. And so Mello did. And it became the only thing on his wish list, his shopping list and many other kinds of list, for the rest of his life.

_________________________________


End file.
